


Like a bajillion times Elrond looked after everyone else part one

by cottagecorehobbits



Series: I'm just going to whump everyone who's ever come into contact with Elrond until I feel like giving up and you literally cannot stop me. [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Elrond is a dad, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Elrond, and i love him, this is just fluff, this is terrible but it made me feel productive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottagecorehobbits/pseuds/cottagecorehobbits
Summary: What it says on the tin. I'm just a sucker for h/c and projection and also Elrond and family so uh, gonna store my word vomit here. This is Not Good, you've been warned.
Series: I'm just going to whump everyone who's ever come into contact with Elrond until I feel like giving up and you literally cannot stop me. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176464
Kudos: 10





	Like a bajillion times Elrond looked after everyone else part one

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly getting over my mental block about writing fic, this is just helping me clear my head, be kind please. Also I don't own anything blah blah. If you know me in real life stop reading here. If you tell me elves can't become ill I will simply block you because a) nowhere in Tolkien's work is that confirmed and b) I do what I want.

Elrond closed the door of his younger son’s room with a gentle click, he’d already made up his mind about where he was going, but his long fingers lingered on the brass doorknob for a moment longer than was maybe necessary. The thought of staying just a little longer flickered momentarily across his mind, but he heard the soft sound of Elrohir’s even breaths through the door and thought better of it - the kid needed the sleep.

He wasn’t actually a “kid”, anymore, his sons were hardened warriors now, but Elrohir had looked so small under the four (4) blankets that had been carefully tucked around him, Elrond allowed himself this moment of sentimentality. The sigh that slipped out afterward was unintentional, but felt no less self-indulgent. 

The younger twin had taken ill that morning. Elrond’s sons were no less stubborn than their father, and over many years had perfected the art of pretending that nothing was ever wrong. But their father had keen healer’s eyes and plenty of reason to scrutinize his sons’ behaviors, he had caught the way Elrohir had squinted a little in the gentle light of the dining hall, and the slight rasp in his voice as he jostled his brother for the salt shaker. Elrond raised an eyebrow at these observations, but said nothing until later that afternoon, when a strategic touch to the forehead confirmed his suspicion that his son was running a light fever. 

He had momentarily forgotten, of course, that it was unwise to play chicken with his sons. Though Elrohir was not quite as stubborn as his brother on this particular issue, Elrond still found himself having to coax, prod, and eventually sternly order his son out of that evening’s meetings. He’d now spent the several hours waiting for his son to fall asleep - his healer’s instinct to make the patient comfortable, let him rest, and wait for his ailment to pass on its own, fought with his fatherly inclination to fuss endlessly, and in the end, his parental predisposition won out. 

It was one of his own healers who eventually rested their hand on his shoulder and suggested, gently, that sitting by his son’s bedside adjusting blankets and fetching cool compresses would not heal his son any faster by sheer force of will. And, while the houses of healing were Elrond’s natural habitat, and worrying his natural state, his Lord likely had other pressing matters to attend to. 

The statement was aggravating, but not incorrect, Elrond had many things to attend to, and one particularly insistent thought was nibbling on the edge of his mind. So, he’d breathed another sigh and had not one, but two of his poor healers assure him that if there were any change in his son’s condition, someone would be sent to fetch him immediately. Not that that was likely, Elrond had already thoroughly examined his son and determined that there was no wound or infection or other nasty underlying cause for his current condition besides what was probably run-of-the-mill flu, which would pass. Besides, Elrond knew all of these healers, he had trained many of them in herbcraft himself, as well as looked after them when they were ill, he trusted them. Still, he found himself lingering outside the door for that extra half-second

Then he turned and walked swiftly down the long hallway. His light footsteps echoed against the carved stone and the gentle evening light creeping through the cream coloured arches made the shadows cast by the end of his robes dance along the walls. For once, Elrond paid heed to none of this - he liked walking, it cleared his mind, helped him process, and he could often be found pacing in his study in the early hours of the night, a habit which frayed Lindir’s ever thinning nerves and amused Glorfindel to no end, Elrond could never decide which of these consequences was worse. Today however, he walked purposefully, his long strides became more brisk and his fingers found themselves turning over the rings on his left hand. He turned and ducked into one of the smaller meeting rooms - the duck wasn’t really necessary, all of the buildings in Rivendell were designed for the elves who inhabited them, and Elrond was far from the tallest amongst them, but what he may have lacked in height was more than made up for in stature, and the duck was more of a gesture in this capacity, to set the elves who already occupied said meeting room a little more at ease. 

These elves, though all of them knew Elrond well enough to recognise and appreciate this small gesture, were still somewhat taken aback to find their Lord crashing their afternoon meeting. Several of them exchanged confused glances. Lindir, who was around Elrond most days and so had no right to look startled, looked a little startled, however it could be argued that the perturbed expression was simply his natural state. Glorfindel, who sat at the head of the table, had clearly already anticipated Elrond’s purpose in interrupting, he hid a wry smile behind his goblet, but said nothing.


End file.
